


Something For The Weekend

by PoorQueequeg



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Britishness, F/M, Sex, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-03
Updated: 2011-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-25 16:03:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoorQueequeg/pseuds/PoorQueequeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something nasty in the woodshed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something For The Weekend

The door shut behind him with a loud clatter as he staggered down the snow covered steps after Helen, her giggle still resounding in his ears. She had pressed close as she squeezed through the narrow doorway past him, the cool air in stark contrast to the warmth of her breath against his neck and the smell of her perfume in his nostrils. The ground crunched beneath his feet as he followed her down the garden; the fluffy white snow pressed hard by innumerable footsteps as they trailed down the path towards the woodshed hidden against the old stone wall in the distance. Declan squinted into the darkness as they passed out of the bright light cast against the white garden from the bay doors of the kitchen, his eyes struggled to adjust against the not insignificant quantity of red wine that flowed through his body. Ahead of him he could make out Helen's hourglass form as she veered from the path and sank knee deep into a bank of snow with a chuckle.

“Mind now love,” he slurred, catching her about the shoulders as she slouched forward. Helen straightened up, leaning her head back against his shoulder and peered up at him through her lashes.

“Ooh,” she mumbled, “but look at all this untouched snow. Don't you just want to go and roll about in it?” Declan found himself grinning back half-witted at her playful smile.

James had dispatched him to the garden to fetch logs for the fire and Declan had not protested when the charming Dr. Magnus had offered to accompany him. “We can't possibly expect him to go alone, James,” she had explained in a gentle, mocking tone. “The thing....in the woodshed.”

“Ah, indeed,” James had assented, eyeing Declan with a knowing look as he followed Helen into the hall.

“Thought you'd have enough of snow round your way,” he teased and Helen chuckled against him before pushing forward onto her hands, pulling one leg stiffly up out of its icy prison and clambering forward towards the lawn on her hands and knees.

“I never love England more than when covered in snow, Declan” she chortled as she pulled herself upright and climbed a few steps up the bank and he found himself sloping after her helplessly. He stepped forward and Helen chuckled loudly as he sank deeply into the snow with a whoosh. Declan's mouth formed an O and he let out a shuddering breath.

“Bloody 'ell!” he groused as snow found its way up his trouser leg and clung icily to his skin. “That's fuckin' freezin' that is.” Helen's chuckle morphed into a full belly laugh as she watched him pull his leg out only to sink deeply again on the next step. “Glad you find this so funny! Oi!” He turned his head away to avoid the ball of snow that flew towards him and hit him softly on the ear. “Cheeky mare!”

Helen staggered sideways and tipsily stooped to pick up another handful of snow to hurl at him. Incensed, Declan lunged forward up the bank towards her, but she skipped merrily ahead into the garden. Another handful snow landed with a thwack in the middle of his chest and he gasped in indignation as Helen buckled over laughing. “That's it! No mercy!” he threatened, gathering up a handful and packing it tight before lobbing it at her.

Helen squealed and dodged to the side ineffectually, the snowball hitting her squarely on the hip and exploding in a powdery mess against her side. She staggered back, her arms flailing as she tried to keep her balance against the wine and laughter as Declan sprinted forward onto the flat of the lawn. He began to flick loose handfuls of snow at her as he approached and Helen crossed her arms in front of her face in defence.

“Noo” she began to protest but Declan was unrelenting in his assault, stopping only to heave in a great lungful of breath, his laughter loud in the quiet, winter night. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he shoved forward taking them both tumbling to the ground. “No! No, I yield,” Helen rasped as he pressed her into the frosty ground and she looked up at his face, shadowed in the dim light reflected off the snow as he loomed over her. His tongue reached out to swipe across his lower lip and his breath misted in great clouds between them before it melted away into the cold night.

Declan peered down at her and stared into her impossibly wide, blue eyes for a long, long moment, transfixed as she blinked sleepily up at him. “Declan,” she cooed in a low, soft voice and he smiled at her lazily and wondered if he she'd taste sweet like the port wine she'd been drinking before they’d come outside. “Declan,” she repeated gently and he blinked a few times as he watched her expression morph from sweet to mischievous and her hands came down hard around his neck. Declan gasped and jerked violently as she shoved a massive handful of snow under the collar of his sweater, his back arching sharply against the cold. Helen gave him a hard shove and rolled to the side, slipping out from under him and pressing her palms against her thighs as she pulled herself upright. She took a few lumbering steps forward through the crisp snow, hunched double as peals of laughter escaped her and Declan squirmed for a moment before sitting upright and throwing a snowball after her retreating figure.

He pursued her across the lawn and caught up with her at the hedge; careening into her heavily and pressing her into the woody, snow covered mass, her breath left her chest with a loud huff as his arms wrapped around her. The twigs scraped the side of his face and her body pressed close against his as they bounced and swayed against the springy branches, snowflakes tumbling down across her cheeks to cling adorably to her hair as it curled around her face. He panted heavily and stared at her grinning countenance, her lips curled into a teasing smile and her hands planted firmly against the ribbed fabric of his sweater on his chest.

A loud knock echoed around the garden and Helen’s eyes darted over his shoulder. He turned his head to see a figure silhouetted in the doorway across the garden, a cloud of breath floating through the cold air as James tapped his pipe heavily against the red brick wall beside the kitchen door. The hiss of a match reached their ears and they watched silently for a moment, hidden against the dark hedge as the tobacco glowed cherry red, illuminating the planes of Watson’s face as he lit his pipe and took a few steady puffs.

Declan’s gaze dropped to the soft form in his arms, her chest rising and falling against his, flecks of snow on her eyelashes. Her fingernails flexed against his torso and her hands seemed unbearably warm despite the wool between them. They stood like that for an interminable time, breathing heavily and what seemed to him, unbearably loudly until eventually James turned and walked back into the house, the door snicking shut behind him. Helen chewed her lip for a second before peering up at him through her lashes.

“I suppose we really ought to get down to the woodshed,” she said sadly.

“Aye,” Declan breathed, his face unnervingly close to hers, his jeans growing achingly snug. Helen swallowed audibly and Declan let out a cough before stepping back and pulling her as gently as possible out of the brambles. She gave him a timid smile and rubbed her palm across the back of her head to straighten her hair, picking a stray twig out of the unruly curls as they sloped down the bank and along the dark path to the crooked beech of the woodshed.

The door creaked on its hinges as he held it open for her and Helen slipped under his arm, disappearing into the black interior.“I can’t see a thing in here,” her voice drifted out of the darkness and he turned his head to glance back at the lights of the house before stepping in after her. The door slammed shut behind him as he pressed against her from behind.

“ Ere y’are,” he said, pulling a zippo from his pocket and holding it aloft. The dim yellow light danced across her cheeks and she smiled at him gently, blinking slowly and licking her lips before reaching past him and tugging a grimy jam jar from a shelf on the wall. A string of cobweb trailed behind the glass as she pulled it close and Helen wrinkled her nose slightly.

“Ooh,” she uttered in disgust and unceremoniously wiped the offending grey mass on his bicep as she brought the jar near.

“Eh!” Declan protested but she ignored him and plucked the lighter from his fingers, tipping the glass so that the flame flicked around the wick of stubby yellow candle inside. She flicked her gaze up at him for a brief moment and he watched her face intently, his eyes fixed to her mouth as her tongue poked out while she lit the candle.

“There we go,” she said triumphantly as the candle inside the jar flickered to life. She reached forward to set it back down in the shelf and flicked the lid of the zippo shut with a tiny clank before handing it back to him. His fingers brushed against hers as he took it from her and she smiled indulgently before turning away to the woodpile behind her. Declan stared at her ass as she bent forward, the black fabric of her trousers stretching over the round swell of her buttocks and he couldn’t help but imagine pressing her against the wood. His cock throbbed where it lay trapped by the tight fabric of his jeans.

Helen lifted a couple of logs and turned back to him, arching an expectant brow and he dutifully extended his arms.

“I make a good pack ‘orse,” he said and Helen turned away smiling, the deep rumble of his northern drawl rippling through her to settle low in her stomach.

“That you do,” she murmured reaching forward to pull some smaller pieces of wood from a tall stack in the corner. “Here,” she told him, laying them across his forearm and he shuffled forward a step or two, his knuckles brushing her breast as he stepped closer. Helen froze and dropped her eyes to his hand for a second before glancing back up at his face. Declan’s expression was hard to read, his mouth open slightly and his eyes dark in the dim light. She dropped her gaze back to his hand and turned, her nipple scraping lightly over his fingers again and this time he exhaled loudly and turned his hand so that his palm cupped her breast fully. Helen sighed and pressed into his touch and a moment later his arms were around her, the heap of wood clattering loudly to the floor as their lips collided furiously.

Helen scraped her nails across his scalp as he pulled her close, his tongue sliding into her mouth hot and demanding. She groaned against his lips and kissed him back hungrily as one hand squeezed the soft mound of her breast, the other cupping her ass and hoisting her up against him. Helen raised her knee and hooked it around his thigh and Declan spun them around, pressing her back against the woodpile and devouring her mouth. She did taste like port and those brandy soaked cherries in chocolate James had waved in front of her face after dinner with a knowing smile. Declan’s head spun at the deliciousness of it and pressed closer against her. Helen groaned again and her hands roamed across his chest, under the hem of his sweater, her fingers freezing cold against his hot skin. He shuddered at the contact and Helen moaned in response, spreading her legs to cradle him between her thighs as he ground his erection against her.

“Ah Christ” he mumbled as his lips trailed down her neck and she scraped her nails against his nipples, grinding against him so that the hard fabric of his jeans dragged achingly over her tingling clit. She squirmed, dropping her head back and sliding her hands down to tug at the buckle of his belt. Declan released her long enough to yank open the fly of his jeans before his hands were back on her, sliding under her top to cup the soft, warm bosom as her fingers slipped inside the fabric of his boxers.

He inhaled sharply as her cold fingers snaked around his cock, wincing at the blast of cold air against his heated flesh. Helen pressed tiny kisses against his jaw line.

“Declan, Declan, Declan,” she cooed, sliding down on her knees before him. He inhaled sharply as she parted the fabric of his shorts and pressed a hot, open mouth kiss at the base of his impressive erection. Declan's eyes fell closed and his fingers tangled in her hair as her warm, wet mouth closed around him, her tongue swirling torturously around the swollen head slowly: once, twice, three times before she took him in deeply. Cool fingers massaged his aching balls as he bumped the back of her throat, her deep hum reverberating through his rigid length and into his body. He gasped as her head bobbed and he peered through the dim light to watch her lips slide up and down his heated flesh. She watched him through slitted eyes with a lazy, lustful expression on her face and he felt a stab of pleasure spike through him.

Abruptly he pulled her head back, his cock leaving her mouth with a wet smack. She chewed the inside of her cheek, a silvery cobweb of moisture trailing between the angry red head of his cock and her lip. She grinned up at him wickedly and he fairly growled, hoisting her roughly to her feet and crushing his lips to hers. Helen groaned into his mouth and scraped her nails against his scalp as he pressed her against the lopsided stack of logs stacked up the wall behind, pushing her legs up and cupping her crotch in his palm. She rubbed against him furiously as dipped his head to nuzzle her breasts through the dark fabric of her top, a couple of logs tumbling noisily to the hard ground as she squirmed beneath his touch. She gasped loudly as his cool fingers slipped under the fabric of her bra and squeezed, his lips fastening to her neck as her head tilted back in pleasure. He shoved her sweater up and his mouth trailed wetly across her skin, the heat of his tongue in stark contrast to the damp icy air on her hardened nipples.

Helen's hand snaked between them and the buckle of her belt thunked woodily against the logs as she shoved it aside to pull at her fly. Declan stepped back a little and tugged at her trousers with a grunt and she shivered as the cold air hit her. He gripped the milky expanse of her thigh in his hand, his thick fingers massaging the soft skin before looping under the elastic of her underwear and dragging it down. Helen giggled as she slipped down the woodpile slightly and he pressed close, pinning her with his body as he reached down to kiss her again.

She gasped into his mouth as a finger slipped between her legs and probed the hot, wet recesses of her pussy. She jerked her hips into his hand as he stroked her, his thumb brushing her clit and he slipped two fingers inside. She was unbearably warm and wet and he longed to bury himself in her, his cock twitching in anticipation.

“Declan,” she uttered huskily and he met her lustful stare with a dark needy look. Helen grinned wickedly and dug her fingernails into the soft flesh of his ass, pulling him closer. His cock bumped against skin of her inner thigh and she panted heavily, shifting her legs awkwardly against the constraining fabric around her knees. Declan shoved her trousers roughly downward, gripping a soft round cheek in his hand and pressing her legs up against his chest. Helen's arms flailed madly against the wobbly stack of logs beside her, trying to get purchase as he surged forward, emitting a long, loud “Oh,” of pleasure as the wide head of his cock pressed into her. Declan grunted, his eyes screwing shut and his face twisted into a grimace of pleasure as his hard length filled her, her inner muscles clenching around him deliciously. Gasping he began to thrust into her, shoving her back against the woodpile, his bare ass stippled with gooseflesh in the chilly night.

Helen gripped his shoulder desperately with one hand, the other clawing wildly at the wood pile beside her. The force of his thrusts caused a tall stack to crumble, heavy blocks of wood clattering to the floor and knocking loudly into the side of the shed but Helen was beyond caring. She let her head drop back as he pounded into her, his breath hot in her ear as he hunched forward over her, the change in angle driving her mad with lust. Declan gripped one hand tightly around her hip and braced himself against the woodpile beneath her with the other; a ragged shard of wood pressed sharply into the skin of his palm. He was so close that it barely registered, his entire conscious mind overtaken by the gasping, mewling creature beneath him. Her hot body gripped him as she squealed and moaned and shuddered; her tight pussy convulsed around him as she came with a long, breathy cry. Declan clenched his jaw, the vein on the side of his head visible even in the dim light of the shed and Helen grinned up at him lazily, her expression utterly wicked. She raised her hand and stroked her nails across his temple, pursing her lips at him teasingly.

“Oh Declan,” she cooed in a low, rumbling voice and he gasped, his whole body going taut like a bow as he jerked into her erratically a few times and came with a choked sob. Declan's eyes rolled back in his head, an idiotic grin spread across his face and he thrust into her languidly, drawing out his climax. Helen's eyelids drooped and she hummed, stroking her fingers across his scalp. He dropped his chin and exhaled, taking a few deep breaths, his heart hammering wildly in his chest and met her eyes as the candlelight flickered and died, a faint wisp of smoke scenting the musty air between them.

 

The drawing room was warm and full of the tinkling sound of glasses and the hum of chatter when they entered a little while later. Declan trailed mutely behind Helen, a dazed expression on his face, his arms laden with wood and a gentle ache buzzing through his limbs.

“Ah, the intrepid adventurers return,” James said jovially, turning towards the door and gesturing at them with a bottle as they entered. His gaze flickered over Helen’s face and took in her rosy cheeks. “Cold out?”

“Quite bracing,” Helen replied with a gentle smile, stooping to tug the guard away from the front of the fire as Declan knelt down and dropped the heap of logs in his arms into the scuttle.

“Drink?” James asked Helen politely as Declan began to stack one log on top of another in the hearth, the coals shifting beneath their weight with a whisper. “Oh yes please,” Helen responded mildly, turning to observe as he rubbed his palm absently. Declan leant back on his haunches and adjusted the guard in front the grate as the wood began to crackle.

“Oh dear, Declan, did you get a splinter?” she asked sweetly and he raised his chin to meet her smiling face.

“Aye, it’s nothin’” he replied in a lazy tone, but did not protest when she took his palm gently in her hands and pressed her nails against the red mark in the flesh beneath his thumb.

“Poor thing,” Helen crooned gently and he hissed a little as she squeezed the skin and tugged the offending sliver of wood out of his hand. “There, all better,” she said flicking it away and rubbing her thumb over his palm, meeting his gaze with lazy eyes and smiling at him for a moment before turning away. He watched her backside as she sashayed across the floor towards the couch and reached an elegant hand out to take the proffered glass from James, gazing back at him over the rim for a moment as she took a long sip, a devilish glint in her eye.

“So you survived then?” James asked him casually, slugging cognac into a glass and holding it out towards him. Declan blinked and Helen peered down into her drink, swirling it absently around the glass with an innocent look on her face. James chuckled at his expression and turned to sit on the couch beside her. “The thing in the woodshed?” he said, stretching his arm about her shoulders, his tone teasing.

Declan held his tongue between his teeth and looked at the drink in his hand with a look of wry amusement before taking a slow sip. “Aye, fierce it was though,” Declan told him earnestly.

“A veritable scourge indeed,” James told him, a gleam in his eye. “Cheers.” He raised his glass and Helen turned her face away, biting her lip to suppress a chuckle. Declan quirked a brow and raised his glass in response.


End file.
